South Italy and the EU Meeting from Hell
by Pierre Gringoire
Summary: When Spain falls ill, Romano graciously volunteers to attend the World Meeting in his place and take notes. That was possibly the worst decision he's ever made in his entire existence.
1. It Begins

South Italy and the EU Meeting from Hell

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. All characters are owned by Hidekaz Himaruya. I'm just borrowing them for my own nonsense plot.

It was a well-known fact in the International community that South Italy, AKA Romano, detested the world meetings. Well, maybe 'detest' wasn't the right word for it. Romano hated the world meetings with a hatred he usually reserved for France, Germany and American pizza. He was often content to just let Veneziano represent the nation of Italy at the meetings and the other nations were just as content in him doing so, as even the most generous among them would call him trying company.

Today however, 10 minutes before the nations were supposed to report to the first day of the bi-annual world meeting, Romano was rushing through downtown Barcelona, cursing all the way. "Damn tomato bastard, hosts the meeting in his own city and can't even show up on the first day, lazy bastard…" Just half an hour earlier, Romano was eating breakfast at Spain's house, yelling at him to 'get downstairs and go to the meeting!' When Spain didn't respond, Romano walked upstairs to drag him out of bed, if needed. What greeted him was the sight of Spain, buried under the covers, nursing the mother of all economically induced colds. Normally, Romano would have rolled his eyes, yanked the covers off and told him that if Greece could bring himself to come out to Barcelona for the meetings, Spain had no excuse, but just when he had walked into the room, Spain had given him such a pathetic look that after calling his bosses to inform them of Spain's absence, Romano had actually volunteered to go to the meeting in his place.

"Chigi," Romano muttered, running up the steps into the world meeting headquarters. "I'm getting too soft for my own good."

When Romano walked into the main meeting hall, most of the other nations were milling about, either socializing with their friends and neighbors, or reviewing their agendas with their geopolitical blocs. Romano could see America in the middle of the room, loudly asking Japan when the next season of something called Attack on Titan was coming out, in between taking bites out of one of his disgusting breakfast sandwiches. To their left, France and England were already getting into one of their traditional spats, with England telling France exactly where he could stick one of his baguettes.

"Romano!" Romano turned to see Veneziano walking up to him with a big smile on his face. "I didn't know you were coming today! I would have brought more pasta! Where's big brother Spain?"

"He's sick. I'm just here to take notes for him."

Veneziano frowned. "Oh, poor Spain! Maybe after the meeting we can go over and take care of him!"

Romano was about to retort that HE could take care of Spain just fine by himself, when Germany stepped to the front desk and began banging a gavel.

"Order! Order! This meeting will come to order!" Gradually, the nations began to take their seats. When the room was quiet, Germany cleared his throat and addressed the room.

"Thank you. First of all-Denmark put the Legos away-I would like to thank all of you for coming. Unfortunately, Spain cannot be here to open the meeting, so I have volunteered to take his place." Romano rolled his eyes. Of course Potato Bastard would.

Germany continued to address the assembled Nations. "Second, if you would take a look at your agendas, you will notice that there have been some changes to the way that the meetings will be conducted. Due to several complaints regarding the… inefficiency of past meetings, we will dispense with the general meeting today and instead meet with our geographical blocs first. Hopefully, we will use this time to iron out your agendas so that the general meetings will go more smoothly."

 _Fat chance of that happening_ , Romano thought. He scanned the room to see the reaction of the other nations to this development. The larger nations like China and Brazil looked pleased, while Japan, Lebanon and the Baltics looked nervous. Mexico and Cuba looked pissed at the thought of spending the day with America, not that Romano blamed them and Russia, as always, seemed completely indifferent.

"Are there any questions?" Germany asked. Almost immediately, Veneziano's hand shot up. _Oh joy._

Germany sighed. "Yes, Italy?"

"When's our lunch break?"

"Italy, its 9:30 in the morning!"

"Dude, I want to know too! I'm hungry!" And now America decided to join in. Wonderful. Romano and more than a few other nations were ready to call America out for being a fat fuck, when England beat them all to it.

"I just saw you eat five of those disgusting breakfast…things, you glutton! How the bloody Hell can you still be hungry!?"

"Ah, Angleterre, aren't you keeping Amérique properly fed? That's no way to treat your-"

"SHUT YOUR FACE, FROG!"

"ENOUGH!" Germany bellowed. England continued to glare at France, but didn't say anything else. Once he was sure no one else would interrupt, Germany continued. "Now that we have gone over the agenda for the day, I move that we adjourn this meeting and meet with our blocs for today. All in favor?" The vast majority of hands went up. "Seeing as we have a majority, the meeting is adjourned. The location of your bloc meetings is located in the program. Let us all proceed to-"

"Germany!"

"Italy, what is it!?"

"You never said when our lunch break was!"

Not for the first time and certainly not for the last, Romano wished he was an only child. Spain owed him a dozen free dinners for this. At least.

 _That's it for chapter one. Next time: the actual European meeting begins._


	2. Just who's running this show anyway?

After what seemed like forever, Romano finally made his way out of the main meeting hall and into the smaller room where the European countries were meeting. Unlike the main meeting hall, the meeting room consisted of eight rectangular tables set up next to each other, with one larger table at the back at the room facing the door. Even taking into account that not all of the nations had bothered to show up to the meeting, it would be cozy.

The assembled nations had already taken their seats. Romano took a moment to scan the room to see how the European nations had divided themselves. That could give him a hint for how the meeting could turn out. The Nordics had their own table near the front of the room, the Baltics and Poland were seated as far away from Russia as possible, Veneziano was seated at a middle table in between Greece (who was already asleep) and Hungary, while England and France were on opposite sides of the room, England still giving France a death glare. Romano looked to see if there was a seat available by Belgium, but unfortunately, she was in the last seat on the right table closest to the door.

She looked up at him and gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry Romano."

Romano gave her a small smile. "It's fine. I'll survive one meeting." He looked for any available seats. Unfortunately, the only two remaining were next to France and Russia. Romano resisted the urge to run away screaming. _Think of Spain. He needs to know what kind of shitstorm he'll be walking into when he finally shows up._ While he was hesitating, France caught his eye and gave him a wink. "Bonjour, Romano!" Romano couldn't get to the seat next to Russia fast enough.

He almost immediately regretted it the moment he sat down. Russia turned to face him with that same placid smile he usually had. "Oh, hello."

Romano looked resolutely at his lap, not making eye contact with the demon sitting next to him. "H-Hello Russia."

"I don't think we've ever sat next to each other for one of these meetings. That'll make things more interesting, da?"

Romano gulped. "Sure. Whatever you say." Russia wouldn't try anything at the meeting, would he? Not with the EU nations in the room.

"Is something the matter?"

Romano finally looked up. Russia was giving him a quizzical look. At the table across from them, Veneziano looked at them with pure terror. Summoning every ounce of courage he had, Romano managed to squeak out "No, why do you ask?"

Russia looked like he was about to say something when Germany took his seat at the head of the room. "Is everyone present? Let's begin by-"

"Like, it's not your turn dude." Poland interrupted.

Germany looked at him with a confused expression on his face. "I beg your pardon?"

"It's not your turn to chair the meeting," Poland answered. "You chaired it last time."

Germany looked blank for a moment, then nodded. "Ja, you're right. Whose turn is it then?"

Lithuania pulled a sheet of paper out of his briefcase. "Well, let's see. We go by alphabetical order and since Germany was chair last time, the chair today is…Greece!"

All eyes in the room turned to Greece, who was still sleeping next to Veneziano. Without missing a beat, Veneziano shook him. "Wake up Greece! It's your turn to chair the meeting!"

With a yawn, Greece woke up and slowly made his way to the seat where Germany was. Germany yielded his place and took the seat next to Veneziano, to the latter's delight. Romano watched the two of them like a hawk. If the potato bastard made one move on his _fratello_ , he'd clobber him, the European Union be damned.

While Greece was still pulling his notes out of his briefcase, Germany asked in a low voice. "Is it a good idea to have Greece chair the meeting? He's barely awake."

Veneziano, as positive as ever, just smiled and said "He'll be fine. At least he won't do what he did last time!"

Romano wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he asked anyway. "What did Greece do last time?"

"Well, at the last meeting we were in one of those big towers in New York City. Greece and Turkey got into a fight over who was Japan's best friend and Greece threw Turkey out the window. Turkey landed on a hot dog stand and we voted that from now on, we have to have all general meetings on a ground floor. But I'm sure nothing like that will happen today!"

Romano felt a headache coming on. While he was certain that Turkey deserved whatever Greece did to him and more, Veneziano should not be talking about something like that as if it were a minor annoyance.

Thankfully, Greece finally got his notes together and addressed the room. "Let's begin by each of us giving an update on our government's political actions since the last meeting. Any volunteers?"

England was the first to raise his hand. Greece nodded at him sat down and England stood up to give his update. "Thank you chair. As I'm sure you're all aware, my country recently re-elected David Cameron as Prime Minister."

A few of the EU nations, Romano included, winced. France took the opportunity to chime in "I also noticed that the SNP had a good showing in the polls as well. Is your brother going to try to become independent again?"

England's face flushed in rage. "I don't know, why don't you ask him!?"he snapped. "I'd bet my hat that it was you who encouraged him the first time!"

France raised a hand to his chest in mock hurt. "I don't know what you mean Angleterre. I've never had to encourage Scotland to misbehave. Still, I can't say I don't miss him at these meetings. He always gave them a touch of class."

"You and I have very different memories of Scotland, France." Austria dryly noted.

England's face was now almost entirely red. "I've had just about all I can take from you France!"

"England, don't encourage him and move on!" Germany shouted.

"Don't you tell me what to do, Germany!"

 _"Gentlemen!"_

All of the nations looked towards the door where the last voice had come from. Standing in the door way looking extremely irritated was Israel.

"Do you mind? We're trying to have a meeting next door! Either keep your voices down or shut your damn door!" She then turned around and walked back to the Middle Eastern bloc room.

As soon as Israel was out of sight, Belgium got up to shut the door. England gradually regained his composure and went back to giving his update.

As he was droning on, Romano took a look at the clock. Only ten minutes in and already the Middle Eastern bloc had to tell them to keep it down. They were screwed. Spain owed him twenty free meals for this.

 _AN: I promise I won't go too heavy on the politics, but I feel that there needs to be some mention of them, given that it is a world meeting. I also felt I should say that while there won't be any real romance in this fic, there'll be a few hints dropped here and there. Please R &R to let me know what you think and let me know if I'm keeping everyone in character. While it IS a humor fic, I don't want to stray too far from their canonical personalities. Next time: the calm is shattered by an unexpected visitor._


	3. Love in the Time of Opium: R-18

An hour later, and the meeting was moving about as smoothly as Romano could hope for. The other nations had gotten through their updates quickly, (barring an idiotic ten minute stretch where Sweden had to repeat every other word he said because no one outside of the Nordics could understand him) and had now moved on to outlying their environmental policies.

The other nations were actually well-behaved, much to Romano's amazement. England had only threatened to maim France twice in the past hour, Russia was being moderately creepy as opposed to outright terrifying and Veneziano was actually paying attention for once. If Romano's luck held out, the rest of meeting would fly by and he could go back to Spain's house and beat the cold out of him so that he would never have to be subjected to this shit again.

"AIYAH!"

Romano swore. He was never that lucky. The doors had been burst, or rather kicked open by China, who now marched into the room carrying what looked like a magazine in his right hand, apoplectic with rage.

Russia was the first to react. "China! You're early! Are we going to go make America cry now?"

"Not now, aru!" China gritted out, heading straight towards Hungary's seat. Russia pouted, while Germany got up to intercept China before he could do any damage.

"China, whatever it is, can't it wait? We're in the middle of-"

"No!" China shouted, pushing past him and continuing on until he was right in front of the table where Hungary was seated. She looked up at him with a bored look on her face.

"Can I help you?"

"Would you care to explain what _this_ is and why I found it in the break room!?" China threw the magazine he was carrying onto the table. Now that he could get a closer look, Romano realized it was one of Japan's comics. As he couldn't speak or read a word of Japanese, Romano could only make out two words along the spine of the comic: R-18. The picture of China in a skimpy outfit on the front cover, however, told him all he needed to know about what kind of comic it was. " _Gesú Cristo_ , I'm surrounded by idiots and perverts," Romano muttered under his breath.

Hungary's eyes lit up when she saw the comic. "That's not filth, that's mine and Japan's new story! It's called _Love in the Time of Opium_." She quickly grabbed the comic and began to read, while China continued to stand in front of her, face flushing.

"Love in the time of _what!?"_ he squawked.

"Are we seriously getting sidetracked by porn?" Germany demanded.

"It's not porn, it's a serious love story! Japan and I spent six months writing and illustrating it." While Hungary was saying this, Austria took a look over at the comic and almost immediately looked away. Romano scoffed. Yeah, that wasn't porn. Just like America wasn't a fat ass or France wasn't a pervert.

Speaking of France, he too had come over to take a look at the comic. Unlike Austria, he seemed to enjoy whatever he was looking at.

"Ooh la la! Angleterre, come take a look at this! Japan's drawn you very well in this picture."

England stiffened in his seat. "No, thank you. I am a gentleman."

"Hon hon hon, how can you tell what kind of picture it is if you're such a gentleman?"

England sputtered for a moment, but before he could say anything China slammed his hands on the table.

"You can't use my history to write this garbage! That's insulting!"

"It's not garbage or an insult! It's a fictional story that's inspired by real life events-"

"THERE IS NOTHING REAL ABOUT ANY OF THIS, ARU!"

Hungary rolled her eyes. "Oh, stop making such a big deal out of this. Japan and I have written stuff about everyone in this room. France and England-"France leered while England looked appalled-"Sweden and Finland, Denmark and Norway, Spain and Romano-"

Romano leapt to his feet at the last part. "You leave me out of your fantasies, you pervert!"

"Oh please, like you and Spain haven't been dating for the past 30 years."

"I've got the pictures that prove it," Portugal sassed.

At this Romano picked up his chair and aimed it towards Portugal. " _Stronzo!"_

"All right, that's enough!" Germany shouted. "Greece, do something!"

All eyes in the room turned to Greece, who at some point had fallen back asleep. How anyone could sleep while this had been going on was beyond Romano. Germany face palmed. "Oh _Gott verdammt_."

Taking advantage of the lack of leadership in the room, China moved to grab the comic from Hungary. Hungary however, wouldn't let go without a fight.

"I'm going to burn it and scatter the ashes in the street!"

"Don't you dare! You might be able to ban this at your place, but you can't silence us here!"

"Don't make me call in your debts!"

"Do your worst!"

Germany ended the tug of war by snatching the comic from both of them. "I'll dispose of the comic. This has been distracting us long enough. China, go back to your meeting and speak with Japan about it if you're so upset by it. We have enough to deal with without causing an international incident over pornography!"

"It's not porn!" Hungary shouted.

China glared at Germany and looked like he wanted to say something when Russia walked over and whispered something in China's ear. Whatever he said seemed to placate China, as the fight seemed to drain out of him. He nodded and walked towards the door. He turned and shot Hungary one last glare before he walked out and slammed the door shut. The noise from the door slamming finally woke Greece up from his nap. He groggily rubbed at his eyes and yawned.

"Where did we leave off at?"

The nations collectively groaned at this.

"Let's take a short break while Greece reorganizes himself." Austria suggested.

"I second that," Germany said, sitting back in his seat and slipping the comic into his briefcase. Romano narrowed his eyes at him as he put his chair down and took his seat. _Potato Bastard's just as perverted as everyone else in this godforsaken room_. He tried not to flinch when Russia took his seat next to him.

"Yao's so funny when he's angry, isn't he?"

 _Oh yeah, he's hilarious._ Romano thought. _Wait: YAO!?_ Romano gaped at Russia. The only time you would ever refer to another nation by their human name was if you were a relative of theirs or if you were a very close friend and even then, only in private. Just how close WERE Russia and China now? Judging by the looks on Germany's, England's and France's faces which ranged from pure horror to prurient interest, they were asking themselves the same question.

"My my, you and China ARE getting close again, aren't you?" France laughed.

Russia turned to France, with a smile on his face. "Do you think that's funny, France?" He was still smiling when he asked this, but to Romano, it felt as though the temperature in the room dipped 10 degrees. Russia's aura seemed to radiate pure ice. France's face faltered and he stammered out a few words before falling silent. The nations closest to them also began to tremble and Romano himself was quivering in his expensive Italian loafers. How could someone who looked so harmless be so terrifying?

England raised his hand. "I vote we adjourn for a lunch break!"

"Germany seconds the motion!"

A large chorus rose up in favor. Greece barely agreed to it before nations began stampeding out of the room, Romano at the head. He'd eat a hundred American pizzas if it got him away from that Russian bastard for five minutes.

 _AN: So that's chapter 3! As always, R &R. Next time, if Romano thought being in a meeting with these idiots was bad, how about having lunch with them?_


	4. Worse than school children

_AN: Back again! My apologies for the gap in between updates._

Twenty minutes later, Romano had a bowl of gazpacho and was looking for a place to sit that was as far away from Russia as possible. As the dining hall was beginning to fill up with other nations, that shouldn't be too difficult.

"Romano! Over here!"

Romano turned to see Veneziano waving him over to a table. Germany was sitting next to him, much to Romano's dismay and France and England were at the same table, as well as Belgium and the Netherlands. Romano sighed and made his way over. At least America and Russia were nowhere in sight. Romano took a seat next to Belgium. She smiled at him.

"How are you holding out so far, Romano?"

Romano gave her a look. She laughed. "That bad, huh?"

"Does everyone at these meetings act like an idiot all the time, or is it just because I'm here?"

"Not usually, no. Between the economy and Russia being…well, Russia, I think everyone's just a little more on edge."

As if to prove her point, England tried to stab France with his fork. "Keep your hands to yourself!"

"Can we go for five minutes without the two of you fighting like school children?" Germany scolded. England scowled, and then went back to eating.

Romano took a bite out of his gazpacho. While he would have preferred Italian cuisine, Spanish food was a close second. Not that he'd ever tell Spain that.

"Romano!" Veneziano poked at him. "Do you want to try these potato dumplings I made?"

Romano scowled. "Why would I want to eat potato dumplings?"

Veneziano's face fell. "Germany likes them-"

"I don't care what Germany likes! I've never cared about what Germany likes and I care less even now than I did before!"

Veneziano's lower lip quivered. "But Romano…"

"Now who's acting like a child?" England asked sarcastically.

"Romano, stop it. You're making your brother cry." Germany scolded.

"You like my potato dumplings, don't you Germany?"

Germany blushed. "Yes, you know I do."

Veneziano's face lit up in happiness and Romano could feel his eyebrow twitch. His little brother flirting with Germany. Could this get any worse?

"'Sup dudes!"

Well fuck. Apparently it could.

America plopped himself and his way too crowded tray next to England. The Island nation barely acknowledged him but instead took a disgusted look at his tray.

"Really America? Three flans? I suppose it was too much to expect you to get something that was actually healthy."

"Oh lay off old man. It's not my fault this place didn't have tacos."

Romano rolled his eyes. "Of course it doesn't idiota. Tacos are Mexican, and this place serves Spanish food."

"What's the difference?"

Romano resisted the urge to strangle America with his own tie. Barely. England just shook his head. "Where did I go wrong?"

America turned his attention to England's tray, crinkling his nose in disgust. "Dude, what _is_ that?"

"It's seafood paella."

"Is it supposed to be that black? It looks burned."

"It's squid ink paella and it's delicious."

America backed away. " _Squid ink?_ Gross!"

"It's better than the crap you were eating this morning!" Romano snapped.

"Yeah right," America said, pulling a face. "That looks blacker than the batch of scones England made last weekend."

"Mind your tongue, you impertinent whelp!"

"Oh, you had America over last weekend, England? And you didn't invite _moi_?"

"Shut up France!"

"Anyway," Germany interjected. "How has your meeting been going America?"

"Huh? Oh, okay I guess. Cuba and I are getting along a bit better now. He only called me a fat ass twice today." America rubbed the back of his head. "Someone kept throwing shoes at me while I was standing in line though. How about you guys?"

"We made a _very_ interesting discovery just before we broke for lunch." France leaned in conspiratorially. "Russia and China have re-established their relations."

America just looked at France. "Well duh, I knew that. My boss warned me about that before I flew out here."

"No, _Amerique,_ I mean they've re-established their _relations._ " France winked. America just gave him a blank look.

"Huh?"

Romano had had just about all he could take. "They're fucking, stupido!"

America's jaw dropped. "THEY'RE WHAT!?"

"Keep your voice down!" England hissed. Luckily, none of the other nations were paying any attention. One of the benefits of America being a loudmouth, Romano guessed.

"Are you serious!?" America whispered fiercely. "Oh man! This is going to make the trade meetings such a pain in the ass-"

"We don't know that for sure," Belgium pointed out.

"Belgium's right. We shouldn't panic over something that may not be happening."

"But Germany, Russia used China's human name!"

"That doesn't necessarily prove anything, Italy."

"But not even Romano calls me by my human name and he's my fratello!"

"You can't use Romano as a barometer for how other nations behave, Italy."

"What's that supposed to mean, potato bastard!?"

Belgium laid a hand on Roman's shoulder. "Calm down."

America meanwhile, was staring straight at the table where the East Asian countries were sitting. Sure enough, Russia was there too, in deep conversation with China. Japan looked frightened, while the rest, especially South Korea, looked irritated. Russia and China were fucking; Romano would bet his and Spain's last tomato bushel on it.

"Man, I'm going to send Russia ten Scumbag Putin memes for this." America growled out.

England gave him a warning look. "Don't. The last time you did, it took my boss, your boss, Germany's boss and France's boss to talk the two of you down from killing each other. If Russia and China are…seeing each other, you'll just have to deal with it."

America didn't say anything, but angrily turned back to eating his flan. For a few minutes, no one said anything. Just when Romano thought that he might get out of this lunch unscathed, France decided to break the ice in the worst way possible.

"So Angleterre, how often does America come spend the weekend with you?"

England dropped his fork, America ignored the question and everyone else at the table braced themselves for the inevitable.

"That's none of your business!"

"That wasn't an answer!"

England grabbed his knife and attempted to stab France from across the table. France deflected the blow with his own knife and the two nations began to have an impromptu fencing match with their silverware.

Germany slapped his hand across his forehead. "America, do something!"

America, the fat fuck, just continued to eat his flan and started to laugh his ass off. After taking a particularly big bite, America's laughs suddenly turned to choking sounds. He dropped his spoon and began to thump his chest.

"America's choking!" Italy cried out.

This got England's attention. He immediately dropped his knife and began to pound on America's back.

"You tosser! How many times have I told you not to take such big bites!?"

America began to turn blue. For the first time in the entire time he'd known America, Romano was becoming concerned for his welfare. Could choking on a flan kill America? And if it did, who would deal with Russia?

Germany got up out of his chair, lifted America out of his chair and began to perform the Heimlich maneuver. After three or four attempts, America finally spat out the piece of flan, which flew out and collided with someone's face on the table in front of theirs, knocking them to the ground.

"M-maple."

Germany deposited America back into his seat. After a few coughs, America took a deep breath.

"Thanks Germany."

England slapped America upside the head. "You wanker! Don't do that again!"

"AMERICA!"

The denizens of the table looked up to see Cuba, who was glaring at America. He pointed to the person lying sprawled on the ground.

"Look what you did to Canada!"

As America and Cuba began to argue, Romano finished the last of his gazpacho and got up from the table. If Spain was still alive when this Godforsaken meeting was over, he'd murder him with his bare damn hands.

 _AN: My apologies in advance, but I'll be going out of town for a few days starting tomorrow. The next chapter should be up this weekend. Anyway, next time, the economy is discussed, the meeting completely breaks down and Romano is 1000% done._


	5. Everything falls apart

_AN: Wow. I'm really sorry for the delay in chapters, but I got a bit stuck in how to open this. I wanted to thank everyone who has left a review or favorited/followed this story. This is the first fanfic I've ever uploaded, so that support has meant a lot to me. I hope you enjoy this, the penultimate chapter._

It had just gone past three o'clock and all was hell in the meeting room. Any goodwill that had been generated by their early lunch break had disappeared the instant the agenda had moved on to the economy and Germany had uttered the word that sent a chill down all their spines: austerity. The EU nations had been engaged in arguing, wailing and teeth gnashing since, while the non-EU nations sat back and watched the fireworks. Except for Russia, who seemed to be getting bored.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" Germany's voice rose among the din. Once the noise had died down to a manageable level, he continued. "We all know this is an unpleasant topic, but it is absolutely essential to our health and wellbeing if we continue work together during this critical time-"

"And pay my country war reparations," Greece snapped.

Germany's eyebrow began to twitch. "That matter is resolved. You need to accept the spending cuts that my chancellor has-"

"If I have to choose between defaulting and accepting your spending cuts, I think I'd rather default!"

This set off another round of shouting.

"No Greece! You can't default!" Italy wailed. "If you default, my boss will sell Romano to the mafia!"

Romano sneered at his brother. "What the Hell are you talking about Fratello!? If I'm getting sold to the mafia, you're coming with me!"

At that, Veneziano grabbed onto Germany's suit jacket and began to bawl. "Germany, don't let me go to the mafia! I won't be happy there!"

England was watching the entire display with a disapproving scowl on his face. "Thundering bollocks and a fucking disgrace!"

Germany turned from comforting Veneziano to glaring at England. "That's not helping, England."

England just smirked. "Frankly Germany, I don't know that I should get too involved. Depending on how that referendum goes, I may not even be in the EU by this time next year."

 _Translation: I'm just going to sit back and watch the continent go to Hell because I'm a bitter asshole._

Germany began to grind his teeth. "England…"

"If Angleterre left the EU, how could we tell?"

That got England's attention. "And just what does that mean, frog?!"

France laughed. "Once the black sheep of Europe, always the black sheep of Europe!"

A few of the other nations laughed, but most, including Romano, just cringed. _Jesu Cristo, here we go again._

England and France began to stare each other down, France with a teasing smirk and England with a death glare. England was the first to speak.

"Don't make me regret helping you in World War II, France."

"Oh yes, how could I forget you gallantly dashing in to save the free world from-oh non, wait, that was America. What did you do again?"

England's face turned scarlet while Romano sank in his seat. This was going to get ugly. Germany, to his credit attempted to get the meeting back on track by saying "I think we've heard enough about World War II to last a lifetime. Now if we could get back to the subject at hand-"

"I swear on the honor of the Queen I will make you suffer France!" England shrieked.

France just gave him a look. "Oh rosbif, you're not going to send your fairies after me again, are you?"

England gasped. "You leave them out of this!"

France leered. "Why don't you send America over instead? I've been meaning to catch up with him."

At that last comment, something inside England seemed to snap. All color drained from his face and his initial look of shock and rage turned to a smile. A smile that made other nations shudder and the hair on the back of Romano's neck stand up. No matter his current prissiness, or his insistence that magic existed, Romano knew there was a damn good reason that England was the nation that could send Spain into a sobbing mess to this day.

Before anyone could say a word, England calmly got out of his seat and walked over to France, sending the nations he passed diving for cover. When he got to France he paused for a brief moment, took a deep breath and backhanded France, sending him sprawling to the ground. France barely had enough time to register the impact before England was upon him, raining punch after punch on his face.

"Woo!" Denmark shouted. "Fight, fight fight fight!"

Romano wished he could share Denmark's enthusiasm. _Not._ The nations who were closely seated to France had vacated their seats, most of them fleeing the room entirely as France recovered from England's initial onslaught and began to choke the other nation.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!"

France and England momentarily paused as Germany marched over, fully enraged. "I have had it with these constant disruptions! The two of you need to set these petty fights aside and if you can't, if it's beyond you, leave the meeting and let those of us who actually care-oh _scheisse_ _!"_

When Germany had leaned down to break up the fight, England and France each took one of his arms and dragged him to the floor, alternating between hitting each other and hitting Germany. Some of the more belligerent nations began to cheer while Veneziano frantically waved a white flag. Romano allowed himself a vindictive smile. Maybe there was an upside to being forced to attend a meeting with these assholes.

Any such positive thoughts left when Denmark abruptly jumped up, picked up his chair and, letting out what Romano could only guess was some kind of Viking war cry, jumped into the fray. Because, why the fuck not? Norway rolled his eyes in disgust. "Idiot." Romano couldn't say he disagreed.

With Denmark in the mix, the fight escalated. Most of the nations who could had left the room, while those who couldn't ducked under the table for cover or took bets on the eventual winner. England seemed to be getting the most votes as he did an admirable job yanking France's hair and fending off Germany and Denmark. Romano was torn between taking his leave and staying to watch Germany get his ass kicked some more, when Denmark's chair came flying straight towards him and Russia. With a (manly) shriek, he ducked under the table. The chair sailed just an inch over Russia's head, breaking upon impacting the wall. From his vantage point, Romano could see Russia get up out of his seat, walk over to the mangled remains of Denmark's chair and break off a leg. Romano began to tremble. _Oh shit oh shit, Russia's going to kill us all…_

"This is boring. I'm going to go help China bully Japan some more. _Do svidaniya._ " And with that, Russia left the room.

Romano now saw his opportunity to leave and began to crawl towards the exit, when he felt something grab on to him.

"ROMANOOO!"

"What the hell are you doing Veneziano!? Let go!"

"Romano! We have to save Germany!"

"Like Hell we do! It's every nation for themselves!"

"But Romano-"

Veneziano was cut off mid whine by the sound of gunfire. Veneziano shrieked and held on to Romano and Romano not only let him, but clung onto him in return. The noise from the fight almost immediately died down. After a minute or so, Romano finally summoned enough courage to peek from under the table. What he saw was Switzerland, holding a smoking gun. Apparently, he'd shot into the air and was now aiming it at the four combatants sprawled out on the floor.

"Can we continue with the meeting now, or do you idiots want to fight some more?" he snarled, preparing to reload.

"Put the gun down Switzerland," Germany said, taking advantage of the relative calm to finally separate England from France. France definitely looked the worse for wear, although England looked like he'd also be nursing a shiner the next day. Germany himself had a swollen face and ripped clothing. Denmark looked to be the only one who came away from the fight unscathed, as he made his way back to his seat with a shit-eating grin. "Please, everyone, take your seats and we'll try to pick up where we left off-" Germany cut himself off, taking stock of the half empty room. "Oh _gott verdammt_."

Romano pulled himself back to his seat and began to pack his things. This was the final goddamned straw. If Spain wanted notes from the meeting, he could drag himself from his sick bed and take them himself.

"Where are you going, Romano?" Veneziano asked.

"Where does it look like I'm going? I'm leaving before something else happens!"

"Romano, take your seat," Germany scolded. "We still have important economic matters to discuss as well as-where the Hell is Russia!?"

Romano shrugged. "He left. I think he's going to go beat the crap out of Japan for that porno comic he drew about China."

"It wasn't porn!" Hungary shouted.

"Are we really going to have that discussion again?" Austria asked.

"Like, who cares about Russia? Let's just argue about money some more and get out of here!" Poland said. The remaining nations turned to Greece to retake control of the meeting, only to see him peacefully asleep.

Germany actually looked like he wanted to cry. Romano considered staying just to see that. Before anyone could say anything else however, there was the sound of a body hitting the floor from the room upstairs. All the remaining nations looked up. No one said anything until England asked. "Switzerland? Did you shoot up through the ceiling?"

"…Yes."

"Ah." England hesitated, and then asked again "Germany? Who's meeting in the room above us?"

Before Germany could answer, America's voice rang out: "Holy shit! The floor shot Canadia!"

The meeting deteriorated from there.

 _AN: So that's it for the main meeting. Next up is an epilogue chapter from the viewpoint of a character we haven't seen yet, but I'm sure you've been wanting to hear from. Thanks again for reading and reviewing and I hope you've enjoyed it so far_.


	6. Epilogue

__

_AN: Here it is, the final chapter! I want to thank you all again for reading. And now, Romano finally gets to unload on the person responsible for all of his suffering._

It had been a relatively relaxing day for Spain, cold notwithstanding. After Romano had left, he'd fallen back asleep and woken up three hours later feeling slightly less congested. After taking the remainder of the cold medicine, he'd made his way downstairs and settled on the couch, tissue box in one hand and the TV remote in the other. The remainder of the afternoon had been spent watching a _Hospital Central_ marathon and waiting for Romano to come home. The credits were rolling on the final episode when Spain finally heard the front door open, and then slam shut. Spain smiled and lifted his head up from the couch. "Hola, Roma!"

"Shut up, bastard!"

Spain frowned. "That wasn't nice!" He heard Romano's footsteps from the front door to behind the couch. Spain turned to look at him and was shocked at Romano's appearance. His suit jacket was gone, his tie looked like it had been half bitten off, and he was covered in what looked like soot. Romano stared back at him, his face full of rage.

"I can't believe you," Romano seethed. "I almost get killed covering for your ass, and you're sitting here watching soap operas!" He pulled out a packet of notes from his briefcase and unceremoniously dropped them on the coffee table. "Here are your goddamned notes. I'm going to go change and take a shower."

"Gracias, Romano." Spain began to skim through them while Romano wandered upstairs. _Well, let's see_ ; _the regional blocs met before the general meeting? What was Germany thinking? And Greece was the chair? Ay Dios mio._ Spain raised an eyebrow at the passage regarding Love in the Time of Opium and…huh. _Russia and China are dating? Looks like I owe Prussia free drinks._ Spain continued to read Romano's notes. The environmental policies were on point everyone hated Germany's economic policies, America didn't know the difference between Spanish and Mexican cuisine and almost choked to death on a flan, England and France were fighting even more so than usual, _I'll have to call France later and see what kind of revenge he wants to get on England,_ and Switzerland shot someone called Canada. The notes abruptly cut off there. By the time Spain had finished, Romano had come back downstairs, dressed in his casual clothes and walked into the kitchen.

"Don't get up, I'll make dinner. Do we still have that leftover lasagna?"

"Si, on the top shelf of the fridge."

Spain heard Romano pull out the lasagna tray and put it into the oven to warm it up. "Romano, what happened after Switzerland shot this Canada person?"

"Huh? Oh, well he wasn't that badly hurt. The bullet grazed his ear and he fainted when he realized he was bleeding. He's America's brother though, so America came downstairs and threatened to bomb Switzerland back to the Stone Age. Switzerland pulled his gun on him and almost shot him. Austria and England had to separate them and make Switzerland pay Canada's medical bills. He still wouldn't apologize though."

"Ah," Spain nodded. "What happened after that?"

"Well, the potato bastard went to get Russia back from the East Asian meeting and talk to him about his boss." There was a pause as Romano went to get plates. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Oh." Spain said. "Is that how your suit got ruined?"

"I said I don't want to talk about it!" Romano snapped. There was another pause as Romano opened the oven and took out the lasagna tray. Then he said, "By the way, we need to move the meeting location. The building we were in's no longer usable."

Spain cringed. That would explain the sirens he heard earlier that evening. "My poor city…"

"Stop whining," Romano said. "Germany started that shit with Russia, he can pay for the damages. That's what I told your boss at least."

There were times Spain was dismayed at Romano's animosity towards all things German. This however, was not one of them. "You're too good to me, Roma."

"You're goddamn right." Romano walked into the living room, carrying two plates of lasagna. He put one plate in front of Spain and took a seat in the lounge chair next to the couch.

Spain smiled at Romano. "You're so sweet."

Romano blushed. "Shut up and eat, bastard. You're still paying for a new suit."

Spain laughed. He knew he shouldn't tease him so much, but Romano was too cute when he tried to act tough. "That's fine. Why are you sitting over there? Come sit with me."

Romano frowned. "Do you want me to get sick?"

"I'm not that sick anymore."

"You're sick enough!"

"But Roma, if you get sick too, you won't have to go any more meetings."

Romano opened his mouth to retort, then took Spain's words into consideration. Finally, he picked up his plate and walked over to the couch. "Move over, bastard."

Spain happily complied, moving over to allow Romano space. Romano took his seat, not making eye contact with Spain. "I'm still mad at you for today."

Spain pouted. "Oh, poor Romano. You really didn't have a good day, did you?"

Romano gave him a withering glare. "Understatement of the millennium."

"It could have been worse you know."

"How could it have possibly been worse!?"

"It could have been like America's World Cup final party last year."

Romano shuddered at the memory. "That was worse. But this was still awful and I hate you."

"Aw, I love you too, Lovi."

"Bastard!"

END

 _AN: And that's the end of South Italy's meeting from hell. Thank you everyone who read and reviewed. I hope you enjoyed this story. Until next time!_


End file.
